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Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Everyone
has a passion and passion often leads us to success. I have two main passions,
one is writing and other is art.

I was
bitten by both these passions almost at the same time during the summer of
2011. I had lost my father in March and was depressed. I had to do something to
distract myself in order to escape the wallowing sadness. That was how I
discovered the power of creativity in eliminating sadness. Words and art slowly
but strongly helped me face my loss. They provided an outlet to vent my sadness
and my frustration.

It is often
during the darkest hours that the best things are born. We learn the best things
while coping up with hardships. Those
experiences make us and shape us into the persons we are destined to be. Often
during these times, we stumble upon things accidently and they change our life.

I
discovered the world of knowledge hidden in the many You Tube Videos during my
darkest hours. I self taught myself to draw portraits with their help. It was
entertaining as well as informative. The best thing was that they were free.

The only
problem that existed was the slow buffering of the videos, which sometimes
killed the enthusiasm of studying something. Right at the peak moment, the
video would start to buffer. I would then wish for a faster machine that would
not bring in any hurdles in viewing the videos.

Recently I
am addicted to the “Who Do You Think You Are” series on BBC, which has more
than 200 popular videos uploaded in You Tube. I love the series because of the
stories that they feature, of the tragedies, happiness and hardships some of the
ancestors of the featured celebrities went through. They bring us vignettes
from the life of long forgotten people from a long forgotten era. Each video
brings me an unexplored territory of history that I could write about or get
inspired to write a story. It talks about what expectations, perseverance and
ambition can do to a person.

My resolution
for 2015 is to complete my work in progress, my second full-length novel and to
write more short stories on my blog. I want to grow as an author.

When I
watched the demo video of Micromax Canvas Tab P666, I knew what I require to
fulfill my dream for 2015.

I will
watch more inspirational videos and be more creative in 2015. I want the best
of me to be show cased on my blog and writings. I am sure I would be inspired
daily by watching my favorite videos online. I have also become a member of the
5 am club of Robin Sharma. I begin my day with the 20-20-20 rule, 20 minutes
exercise, 20 minutes of watching inspirational videos and 20 minutes planning
my day or journaling.

Now I can also
stay connected with friends & family with voice-calling and 3G connectivity
of Canvas Tab P666! It has 3G Connectivity, Voice Call Support, Wi-Fi
Connectivity, Bluetooth 4.0, GPS and Micro USB Support. I can watch the videos
with clarity, download and store them and even read books online.

I plan to
gift one for my cartoon and angry birds addicted son after downloading all the
gaming apps.

“No Aarohi,
No. I have seen him and I do not want you to marry him. No matter what you say,
no matter how well earning he is, he doesn’t suit my princess in anyway. Look
at you and look at him. You look like a Disney princess and he looks like a
rogue from a cheap bollywood movie,” shouted my father and stomped away from
the room.

I couldn’t
blame him. When Ajay had come to meet my parents, who were on a brief visit to
our city, he had just recovered from flu and didn’t look his best. More than
that, he hadn’t been able to shave and his unkempt looks had driven Daddy up
the wall with anger. My Dad, due to his upscale London upbringing, couldn’t
tolerate anyone who dressed shabbily or didn’t care to groom oneself properly.

I was so
sure of his approval. I was madly in love with Ajay and we both had built
castles with our many dreams about spending our future together. All those
dreams had crashed in a flash. Sad, I sat in the favorite corner of my living
room and wept hugging the heart shaped pillow, which Ajay had gifted me.

“Aarohi,
don’t worry. Your Dad will eventually come around. I have a plan. Listen,” said
my Mom and my face lit up with a smile on hearing it.

After much
persuasion from Mom and me, my father agreed to meet Ajay one last time. He
told me it was a mere waste of time.

While we
were walking towards our table which had been booked for us in an uptown
restaurant by Ajay, my father pointed out to me a man seated at a table
obviously waiting for his dinner guests to arrive, impatiently looking at his
watch.

“That is
the sort of man whom I would approve as your groom without much ado. Just look
how he shines among all the others seated there. Ha… Aarohi how I wish he was
your choice,” said Dad and I chuckled and then laughed aloud.

Dad glared
at me and I shook my head to ward off the laughter, which was refusing to stop.

“Dad, that
is Ajay,” I said and watched my Dad’s mouth open wide to form an O.

My snobbish
Dad was stupefied by the clean-shaven look of my boyfriend who had taken care
to shave off his unsightly beard and had worn a well-fitted suit.

“Ok then
girl, I approve,” said Dad and I ran and hugged him tight thanking him profusely.
Ajay joined us and I watched as my proud Dad shook his hand. Mom winked at me
and raised her fingers in a victory sign. Ajay had followed her instructions to
a T.

I was
walking down the crowded lanes of North Bangalore shopping for baubles and
gifts for the festive season. The shops were overflowing with Christmas trees
and decorations. I wanted to spend my whole day shopping and had decided to
return home loaded with goodies that would then require to be packed as Christmas
and New Year gifts for friends and family. It was tedious yet exciting to think
about the likes and dislikes of friends and family. After all, it was time to
show them that I really loved them.

It was
while selecting a top for my niece that I saw the man first. A bearded man, who
was dressed in casuals and a denim jacket, was looking at me eagerly. I felt
uneasy and moved away. After a few minutes when I checked, he was still there
looking lost in thoughts.

Stepping
out from the shop, I hopped into my favourite bookshop to treat myself to some
new arrivals and best sellers. Though engrossed in selecting my books, I became
aware to the presence of the bearded man once again as he entered the shop and
lingered near the shelves looking around aimlessly. He sighed as though in
relief when he saw me, started to walk towards me and I panicked. Gathering
whatever books I had selected by then, I approached the shopkeeper to pay for
them. I walked hastily out of the shop to get rid of the stranger who was still
following me with a fanatic look in his eyes.

I quickly
turned a corner, stepped into another street, and crossed the road. Looking
back, to my dismay and horror I found the man a few steps behind me. He had
crossed the road and was now calling out to me to stop. I didn’t and ran
straight towards the duty police officer and complained to him about the stalker.

The police
officer confronted him.

“Sir, I am
not stalking her. She is my former colleague, Priya. She didn’t recognize me. I
was just playing a prank on her by acting like a stalker, to punish her for not
recognizing me,” said the stranger and I gasped as I recognized him at last.

“Bimal, you
idiot! How dare you play a prank on me? And what is this look you are sporting?”
I asked and swatted on his shoulders playfully. The police officer walked away,
complaining audibly about mad youngsters disturbing him.

“So much terror
because of my poor beard,” said Bimal with a snigger and we walked together to the nearby café
to catch upon where life had led us during the three long years that we had
spent apart.

Monday, December 29, 2014

I had a
scrapbook made out of a discarded diary, which had a zipper bag that came along
with it, during my school days. It held a collection of quotes, poems, favorite
songs, beautiful sceneries, photos of my favorite bollywood actors/actresses
and even newspaper cutouts of any interesting news that caught my eye. I
remember keeping in it feathers of birds, lovely stamps, matchbox covers,
chocolate covers and other baubles. Dried flowers and leaves too found a safe
haven inside my scrapbook.

There was
no order and no index as to what was inside the book. Therefore, every time I opened it, which would
be once in every few weeks to add a new treasure, my own collection would
pleasantly surprise and cheer me up. After a while, the bug of poetry bit me
and I started to add my own poems to my collection. I would doodle on pieces of paper and keep it
inside for safekeeping. It was literally my very own treasure house of
memories.

Last summer
when I visited home, I found it again, safely tucked inside the locker of my
cupboard, beneath a few old clothes. I spent hours going through the contents
and some items brought tears into my eyes. Some were reminiscent of carefree
and happy days while some others reminded me of the much confusion that a young
schoolgirl might have gone through. Some reminded me of old friends, crushes
and hobbies. Notes written in longhand in some pages, reminded me of my
ambitions, my ideals. The dried flowers reminded me of the gardens where they
had originated from. The hollering owners of the gardens from where I had
stolen them were now long gone, but the dried flowers had survived the ravages
of time.

Inside the
pouch was also an autograph book, which had the messages from my school mates
scribbled in haste on the last working day of school. Many of them are still my
friends but some who were close to me then are no longer a part of my world
now. Time had brandished its sword and cut the cord of connection between
them and me.

These days,
I no longer keep a scrapbook for memories. I prefer to relish the present
moments and make them memorable by taking photos that I safely store into
electronic storage devices. I keep multiple copies. And when I am bored, I go
through my memory collection and relive those fine moments which had been
captured and frozen in time.

My blog too
have become my online scrapbook where I keep on adding pieces of my creativity
and vignettes from the present or a forgotten past.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Friends can be a boon or a curse. If you have trusted and
become close to a person emotionally, you often let her or him to rule your life.
If they are of the bad sort and cunning enough, they try to manipulate your
feelings for their own advantage. If we are gullible enough, we become their
victims and they transform into emotional vampires who feed on our emotions and
time.

Until a year ago, I trusted a friend of mine with my
life. Not a day passed without me calling her. She told me that she led a
miserable life, her in laws were the worst sort of people, her husband was rude
towards her, treated her as a doormat and her kids never gave her a moment of
peace. Every day I would spend hours trying to cheer her up. My telephone bills
increased and every time she would convince me, I was the lone sunshine in her
life.

Then one fine day, out of the blue, she unfriended and
blocked me on Facebook and stopped all contacts with me. It was based on a
quarrel she had with a friend of mine that I had introduced to her- a counselor
for her many problems, someone who bluntly told her to grow up. I was hurt in
the worst sort of way emotionally as though someone had thrown a bucket of
ice-cold water on me. I had not hurt her with even a single word.

After almost six months, she again sent me a friend
request. I accepted. But by that time, a few of my other friends had warned me
against her and had made my eyes open to the fact that she was a typical
emotional vampire. She loved playing victim to emotionally blackmail people to
get favors done and told lies without even an ounce of regret or shame. I
understood that many of the things about her life that she had told me were
lies. They asked me how I could believe such a lot of lies. I felt like a fool.

So this time, I played safe and did not try to
re-establish our friendship but instead observed her and saw through her lies.
She had not changed and lies one after another began to be revealed to me. I
was disgusted by her talks, chats, and messages. She told me she had broken our
friendship not because she hated me but because she was angered by the
interactions between her enemy (the mutual friend) and me on my Facebook timeline.

Lies continued to be poured down my ear and I tried
hard to keep the façade of friendship by treating her like any other friend.
But that wasn’t enough for her, she wanted our old friendship back, so that she
could vent all her troubles on me.

She wanted me to be the same friend who would trust her
every word, applaud her every step and dance to her tunes. I had but moved on
and realized what our friendship had been in reality. It had been just a façade
using which she utilized my faculties for her benefit. She had found an editor
for her overly stylish Facebook updates, a psychologist to discuss her problems,
an entertainer who gave her books, applauded her beauty and one whom she could
pull down with lies about her own superior achievements.

If I didn’t answer to her whatsapp messages or facebook
messages she would question me. If I didn’t like or comment on her facebook
status or updates she would get furious. I ignored her. The truth was that I
didn’t consider her a friend anymore because I hated liars. But to tell that to
her was difficult for me. I tolerated her silly requests and began to do what
she requested me to do.

Every day, her demands began to increase. She
questioned me about why I couldn’t spare time for her anymore. I had to give
explanations to my actions and my being genuinely busy.

One day I watched the following new Kinley Advertisement on YouTube.

It was cathartic for me. I decided that enough was
enough. I didn’t want to fall victim to an emotional vampire anymore. I decided
to tell her that I had learnt about the truth about her many lies. And that she
cannot emotionally blackmail me anymore playing the harassed victim.

I told her just that. I told her exactly what kind of
lies she had told me and why that hurt. I told her I could not dance to her tunes,
as I preferred to spend my own time fruitfully rather than listening to her
lies. And I asked her to leave me alone and not harass me demanding to act like
the friend I once was. I was not that naïve fool anymore. By pretending to be her
friend, I was deceiving her and myself. I could not tolerate lies anymore.

I didn’t care whether she would get furious at me or
slander me or shower me with expletives. I told her I forgave her for treating
me like a dustbin to dump all her lies and manipulating me. But for my own sake
and well being, I had to become selfish.

She was speechless when she realized that I had learnt
the truth. She didn’t have anything to question me about. She blocked me
immediately on Facebook and whatsapp. At that very moment, I laughed heartily.
I felt like I had become light as a feather.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

I am a bibliophile, someone who is in love with books
ever since I remember. I even got a best library user award while in school
because of my addiction to books.

The debate e-books vs. Paperback books rages the world
over as to which one is better. I am simply not bothered to give my support to
any of these groups.

Did the first paperback books pose such a dilemma to
the readers? Did they have trouble welcoming the latest entrant to the world of
knowledge? I don’t think so. Those who love books does not care which form they
arrive. I have equal love for e-books as well as physical books. Recently, the
majority of books that I have read are in the e-book form. While on a long
journey, I prefer e-books as I can carry around thousands of e-books on my
laptop, phone or kindle.

Now to compare the two:

E-books

Paperback

Cheaper to purchase

Costlier than
e-books

Easier to carry
around. A kindle can hold thousands of e-books

Carrying paperbacks in
your travel bags can break your back.

Easier to find word
meanings or to mark portions of the book that you found interesting using the
online thesaurus. Your scribbling and comments can be erased when you wish
to.

You have to carry
around a dictionary if you want to check word meanings. Highlight some
paragraphs in your book and you leave an unsightly mark, which can’t be
erased unless you used pencil.

Instantly
downloadable from online portals. So you get to read them at your
convenience.

Paperback books
ordered from online portals take time to reach you. So you are kept waiting.

A data crashing can
delete all your books in a flash. The benevolent water can turn mischief-maker
if you drop your e-reader in a puddle.

Paperback books can
stand the test of time if they are kept at a distance from termites, fire and
water. Your favorite book can be with you throughout your lifetime without
much damage.

You can read in
darkness and be a night owl devouring your favorite story without disturbing
anyone.

You need adequate light to read paperback books and often
face resistance from other members of the family who plead to switch off the
light.

Though e-books seems to win in terms of convenience,
true bibliophiles will never bother to find who wins the battle eventually. I
wouldn’t. I am interested merely to gather the bit of knowledge the book is
going to deliver.

As long as Muse romances writers and readers romance
the books, I don’t fear anything. Let there be peace. Let those who prefer
e-books own plenty of them and let paperback lovers fill their home libraries
with loads of paperbacks.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Travelling is fun. Exploring new places, meeting new people
and getting out of the usual dull routine bring bliss. It is easy to travel
while you are a couple, but once you become parents, the entire scenario
changes. Instead of enjoying blissful, carefree vacations, during those days, we
parents face temper tantrums, travel sickness, brawls among siblings,
unexpected delays, tensions of missing kids and hunger pangs.

I loved travelling as a kid and every year I went on
short vacations with my parents. Those were the times when I squeezed out
maximum care from them, made them dance to my tunes and acted like a spoiled
brat. They would never scold me unless I did something unforgivable. My food
preferences decided the menu, my sleeping habits and laziness delayed our
journey. During long bus trips, they struggled to get a proper sleep cramped
into the seats allotted to us, while I slept like on a proper bed keeping my
head on the lap of one parent and legs on another. I made my father carry me
when I became tired even though he might have been equally exhausted. I did all
that and believed that it was my right.

Now I cringe when I think about my thoughtlessness, but
I understand that what goes around comes around. These days, I am at the
receiving end of exactly similar treatments.

Nevertheless, the magic of travel has not gone, instead
it has become extra special. Be it the presence of a twinkle in my son’s eyes because
of the beauty of scenes that he behold or be it the small games that we play
together to pass time on long travels, the enchantment of our time together has
become more. I remember the things that used to excite me as a kid and guide
him to enjoy similar things.

We make sand castles and draw doodles on the beach together,
for the ocean waves to takes away. We feed the hungry fishes in the temple
ponds. We count sheep, trees, cows and houses on the way to our destination and
try to identify the various landmarks.

Not only has the size of our luggage increased, but
also our travel destinations have also changed. Impromptu tours and treks have
become extinct. We double-check accommodations, the mode of travel and the
climate of our destination. We take care that we visit child friendly places
that will ensure our child’s happiness. His bag is packed with utmost care to
cater to his needs, the climate and his happiness. His bedtime storybooks, his
tablet with game apps installed, travel documents and emergency medicines find
a place of importance in our luggage.

My hand bag size has grown significantly to cater to
his demands and the majority of the space inside my bag is occupied by his
things- his tablet, wet wipes, snacks, extra dresses, towels and sometimes even
his favorite toys.

Answering the innumerable questions that pop up,
inventing new games and discovering new things together bring immense joy. Be
it a short trip to a nearby beach or a month long vacation exploring new
places, the moments together become precious pearls woven into the tapestry of
memories.

Capturing snapshots of him enjoying the vacation both
on camera and in the mind’s eye is another favorite pass time. After every
trip, we return home a little more closely bonded as family and a little more
rejuvenated.

We begin planning for the next trip and are eager to
embark on our next one. When moments become cherished, trips become memorable.

Many things exist that are beyond human perceptions. And
one such thing is the power of love. Love in its magnificence is capable of miracles
and the highest form of love is the union between two bodies when they revel in
the ultimate union of the body and soul.

The act of making love or sex is considered sacred in many
religions and it is so because it is the coming together of opposite energies,
opposite entities, the Ying and the Yang. In many tribes, the act is considered
so sacred that special prayers and rituals are performed when a couple is
married. When a couple gets married, there is a promise made, a vow given with
extraordinary depth of feeling and singularity of will. It is a promise
witnessed and sanctified by the presence of one or more persons. Even when
there are no witnesses, our subconscious mind, our soul and God become our
silent witnesses. Such a vow becomes an oath that gets embedded in the very
core of our being.

In every incarnation, there is a mate for every human
being. And some of the souls reincarnate with vows made to be together in age
after age, incarnations after incarnations. An invisible thread of love binds
such souls. When we succeed in finding our soul mate, our twin soul, we attain
the highest possible bliss in love and advance spiritually.

For these very reasons, I am not in favour of pre-marital sex. The coming together of two
persons before marriage is considered as a sin in many religions. If a person doesn’t consider the union between
two souls or two bodies as something sacred and magnificent, then it degrades
as a mere act of pleasure that lasts for a short duration of time. But when two
persons who have exchanged marriage vows and are comfortable with each other make love, the act of their coming together bonds them together in a
solid relation.

In many western countries, couples live together and test
their compatibilities before getting married. Some couples never get married. But
they live together throughout their life; this too is a type of marriage at the
spiritual level, where God is the witness. The institution of marriage is
questioned for its purpose and sanctity. But in an earlier period, in Europe
and other countries, pre-marital sex was a taboo and a man caught in a
compromising position with an unmarried female was supposed to have ruined her.
He had to marry her.

In India too, pre-marital sex is not approved by most
of the societies. Though urban societies have toned down their outlook towards pre-marital
sex, the rural regions still consider sex before marriage as a taboo.

The current generation is open to the ideas of living
together before marriage and they don’t consider it as an act of sin. Many say
that there is nothing wrong in pre-marital sex if there is mutual consent. But
many later regret their decisions.

Indian culture has given a lot to the world. The sacred
relationship between man and woman, the sanctity of marriage is one such belief.
According to Hinduism, the sacred vow of marriage exists between the persons
for the next seven incarnations. If these two souls come together, they attain
a higher level of spirituality in the ensuing incarnations and attain the
nirvana or ultimate salvation eventually.

The presence of the atrocities like rape that exists in
society also degrades the divine union between man and woman. Under the
influence of alcohol and drugs, many men commit such atrocities. It is often
the female that is persecuted and she dies inside after the heinous act. She
blames herself and is further outlawed by the reactions from the society. Such
poor girls should be rescued and rehabilitated.

The spiritual strength of marriage and the sanctity of
it should be preserved by all individuals. The peace that such a relation
bestows upon a couple is enormous.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

It was April
26, 2006 and I was at the Karipur International Airport waiting to board a
plane to Dubai. The people around me were cool, walking around and talking with
loved ones on the phone. Though I strived to appear calm, I was shivering
inside. It was my maiden trip on an airplane and to top it, I had a worse case
of aerophobia - the fear of flying.

There was
no friend or relative accompanying me. My parents had scolded me
thoroughly when I had expressed my fears of how I would manage the trip alone.
In their opinion, I was just being childish. When our illiterate old neighbor could
travel to the Gulf and back without much ado, they were wondering why I, an
engineering graduate working as a lecturer in an engineering college, could not
travel alone. I was travelling to join my husband who worked in Dubai. It was a matter of the heart as well.

From
whatever I had heard and seen in the videos and pictures of Dubai that my
husband had sent, I absolutely loved Dubai. It was my dreamland. But the fear
of flying in an Airplane was choking me. I had even made discrete enquiries of
whether there was any other way of travelling to Dubai. May be there was a
ship. I knew swimming, but by God, I didn’t know flying.

When all my
pleas fell on deaf ears, I began visualizing a happy and safe trip to Dubai
daily. I would visualize reaching Dubai and walking out of the terminal in
Dubai to join my husband in my very own dreamland. I would affirm daily before
sleeping that I loved travelling in airplanes. The phobia started to reduce day
by day.

But on the
day of travel, all my fears came down upon me like an avalanche. What if I took
the wrong plane and landed up in a strange country with no friends at all? What
if I slept off, came back in the same plane, and ended up where I began the
trip? Many of my fears made me chide my addled brain as I had studied the procedures
that accompanied a plane trip, the detailed check in and boarding procedures,
which ensured that travelers reached their destination safely and happily.

The 9/11
incident were still fresh in the minds of people and I suspiciously watched my
co-passengers as well. Was there a terrorists lurking among them? The thin man with
a French beard, nervously checking time did seem like a terrorist. I shuddered
at the thought. Then I watched an elderly woman join him and his face became
calm. He was nervous thinking why his mother had taken long to return from the toilet.
I heard the woman assuring him that it was just the nervousness of the trip
that had made her stomach upset and that she was okay. I sighed in relief
again. There were more members in my club!

I waved at
my parents who had stayed to watch me board the plane with a forced smile and
took in their happy faces one last time before walking into the bus that took
us towards the plane. May be, I would never see them again!

Once
aboard, I asked the woman occupying the seat next to mine where she was headed to
sheepishly. She assured me the plane was bound for Dubai and there was no need
to panic. It was her 20th trip to Dubai as she travelled every three
months to Dubai to visit her husband. I began to relax.

Then while
the plane was preparing to take off, the flight stewards arrived, began the
on-flight safety demonstration and my fear began to re-surface. The woman,
sensing my fear, asked me to ignore them. The procedure was just a part of their
in-flight safety demonstration and didn’t imply in any manner that our flight
was doomed. When the flight took off, almost all the gods and goddesses, whose
names I knew, irrespective of religion or sect, received my prayers.

The movie ‘Rang de Basanti’ provided in-flight entertainment
and distracted me. It seemed like yet another bus trip. All was well until
landing time after the Captain announced that we were about to land at Dubai
international airport. I quivered with fear again. God! Didn’t majority of
plane accidents happen during landing or take off?

I closed my
eyes and prayed again. Then before I realized, it was over. When I walked out
of the terminal after claiming my luggage, I was grinning ear to ear. Plane
trips were not so bad after all. I had conquered my fear with élan.

Watch this video advertisement that thrills and gaods you to chase your dreams and conquer fear.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

There is
nothing more satisfying than feeding a hungry child. I am a mother and when I
am able to give hot and tasty food to my son when he is hungry, I am the
happiest. When he is away from home, I wonder whether he has eaten, I wonder
about his ability to feed himself. He is just six, and at home I take care that
he finish what he has been given.

But when at
school, there is no mother who will keep on checking whether he has finished
his snack, or completed eating his lunch. His lunch would only be half eaten
and he would say that the food was cold and unappetizing. I then wish I could
be a helicopter mom and could hover around there inspecting him eating and
compelling him to finish his food. Kids don’t understand that food is essential for
proper growth, for developing immunity and to get a proper attention span while
sitting in class.

I can tempt
him with hot and his favorite food on returning home. But how to keep him happy
and hunger-free at school? Now he has classes only until noon, but from next
year he would be there till two fifty in the evening. I worry about his hunger
already. But if I somebody could assure me that he would eat his lunch properly
and he won’t be starving by the time he reach home, I can be happy. The lunch,
which I would prepare at 6.30 in the morning, won’t taste as good b noon. And
he would refuse to eat it.

But what if
he was served hot and tasty food at school? What if the authorities saw to it
that classroom hunger was eliminated? I would be the happiest.

Even though
Akshay Patra Foundation which provides mid-day meal to many school kids all
over the country, it is not involved in the activities of my son’s school and I
am plotting on ways on how I can provide hot and tasty food to my son during
lunch hours. May be I can slip in his lunch box during lunch hours and bribe
his teacher to make sure that he ate his lunch!

Blogadda,
as part of its blogger responsibility activities is sponsoring to feed a child
with every blog post that a registered member writes on the theme. This post is
written with that aim. I request my fellow bloggers to participate and use this
opportunity to feed a child. Come on folks, let us eliminate Classroom hunger!

When I think about food, the first name that comes to
my mind is that of my grandmother. It was at her house that a hungry kid,
returning home from school calmed her raging hunger. She would be awaiting me
and seeing me at a distance would go into the kitchen and keep the food ready for
me. Her first order would be to wash my hands, legs and face and then I should eat
without talking. Food was to be respected and we should give thanks to God for
feeding us. That were her words.

I will remember forever the taste of her food, her dal,
her salted mangos and her vegetable curries. My mom also was a good cook, but
nothing compared to the taste of Grand mom’s cooking. The hunger that it
quenched made it tastier. After food, I would rush to join other kids to play
our favorite games or head to the library to find a new book to read.

I guess, there are millions of such kids who return
hungry from school eager to devour whatever they get hold of. In this age of
micro families, grandmothers are missing and so are the sumptuous meals on
return from school. Money spent at fast food joints, bakeries are increasing
day by day, and the healths of kids are deteriorating day by day.

Lunch is an important meal of the day and is supposed
to be the most nutritious one in the whole day. Kids who eat lunch properly are
healthy and concentrate more on their studies. Attention span of a hungry child
is very less and teachers find it hard to teach hungry kids.

Aksha Patra Foundation strives to eliminate classroom hunger
and Blogadda promises to feed a child for every blogpost that is written by
member bloggers. I request my friend bloggers to make use of this excellent opportunity
to help Akshay Patra feed a child for an entire year.